Secret Santa
by ofcatsandwomen
Summary: Daredevil. The supersized Christmas special dramedy sequel to Revenge by Deodorant and Grown Men in Costume, where we find out everything about Miss Piggy, Danny Rand's favorite hobby, Foggy's special project, and the identity of Matt's secret Santa.


Notes: This is the super-sized Christmas special sequel to Revenge by Deodorant and Grown Men in Costume. Compared to those stories, this is slightly less comedy and a little more "dramedy." The story takes place at the Murdocks' on Christmas Eve and features Matt, Milla, Foggy, Becky and Dakota. The books mentioned in the text are taken straight out of reality. All other mentions of real people are also entirely intentional. The usual goes. Marvel owns (almost) everything, and I own nothing. I'm making no profit from this. In fact, I think my work productivity has actually gone down as a result of writing this, which means that I'm probably losing money. Enjoy, and don't be afraid to submit comments!

* * *

Secret Santa

_Of all the holidays, Christmas had the __best smell. There was a hint of pine mixed with mulled cider, egg nog, cinnamon, ginger, hot chocolate and peppermint. All adding to the kind of feel-good atmosphere that seemed to lift people's spirits and convince even some of the most hardened criminals to put off their next hit for just a few days. The cold of the season also helped drive the crime rate down low enough to put a nice dent in Matt's late-night activities. He still went out most evenings and he still had to use his fists more often than he wanted to; but there was also time for contemplation. Time to just stop and listen to Bing Crosby's _White Christmas_ coming from a car stereo down below, take in the smell of wood burning in fireplaces all across the city, and just feel the cold wind on his face. _

_All the sounds and smells__ brought back memories of many Christmases spent with different people in different places. With Karen in the old brownstone, with Natasha in San Francisco, and with the Nelsons' during the last years of college. He most vividly remembered the two kinds of Christmases he'd spent with his dad. The first kind had a million colors. As a kid, Matt loved to watch the tiny lights in the Christmas tree blink on and off in ever more intricate patterns. There wasn't much of anything else in the house, but they always had a nice tree. The second kind of Christmas had no color at all, but a scent so intense that just standing next to the tree felt like being in a dense forest. Like he was part of this forest and somehow connected to it. It was intoxicating. He missed the lights – part of him always would – but the new experience had its own rewards. It brought with it a kind of sensual pleasure that he still found hard to put into words._

_Matt carefully took in the sounds and smells of the city one last time before heading back home across the roof tops. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and he wouldn't be going out tomorrow. And, at least for now, it seemed his neighboorhood was safe._

* * *

"Well, Milla, I don't think our guests are going to find much to like about this tree."

"What makes you say that?"

"Let's just say that I have ways of knowing that it's crooked, kind of heavy on top and very uneven. The whole shape of it just strikes me as, well, _unusual_."

"You should have said something about that when we got it."

"No. Why? This one smells great. What does it matter what it looks like? I'm just saying that the rest of the gang will not be very impressed. We'll have to dazzle them with our cooking instead, okay?" Matt let out the tiniest hint of a laugh and felt Milla's body respond in kind as he reached around her from behind and inhaled the smell of both her and the tree. They were two of his favorite smells in the world. He felt a strange urge to lightly bite her ear, but went for a very steamy kiss on the neck instead. He pulled her a little closer and felt her move.

"Matt! May I remind you that we are expecting company in less than, let's see…" Milla felt the face of her watch, "…twenty minutes."

"We could be done in five." An idea had taken hold, and he liked it more with each passing moment.

"I'm well aware of that, but we have food in the oven that needs to come out in ten, and I just did my hair."

"Okay, fine. You win. But the second they leave, I am _so_ coming for you. It's all you're getting for Christmas by the way so I promise to make it worth your while."

"That sounds great, but I think you'd better let go of me before you need to go take a cold shower or something." Milla laughed and wiggled her way out of his grip.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said reluctantly. "You got candles at the store, right? Aside from the scented kind it wasn't something they would normally keep around the house.

"Yeah, they're in the dining room somewhere, let me think…" Milla felt Matt leave her side and heard him walk towards the dining room table that had already been set.

"Don't worry about it, I know where they are." The scent of candle wax led him straight to the top middle drawer of the china cabinet. He took them out and put them in the two silver candelabra that were already on the table. Ten lit candles later, he joined Milla in the kitchen.

"Okay, I think everything is ready to go, except the salad," Milla said as she wiped her hands on a kitchen towel.

"I'll take care of it. And let's open the wine and put it on the table." Matt sensed the two distinctive shapes of a couple of bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon on the counter and made sure to brush up against Milla as he carried them across the room, just to tease her. He couldn't help but feel as if he had just been cheated out of a quickie. "Okay, I'm going to go put on some music, and then we're just about done." Matt checked his watch. Ten minutes to go. "Oh, and the salad… I'll get to it in a minute."

* * *

Foggy didn't like the look of the sky one bit. The weather forecast had predicted a snow storm for the night, and for once, it looked like it was going to be spot on. It hadn't started snowing yet, but it was only a matter of time. Becky and Dakota waited for him on the sidewalk as he reached in through the cab window to pay the fare. The driver nervously looked up at the sky before giving Foggy change for his twenty.

"Looks like it's going to be a rough night, huh?" Foggy felt bad for the guy. At least _he_ was going to spend Christmas Eve in a warm place with good friends.

"Yeah, I'm not liking the look of this one bit. The streets are going to be hell tonight. Well, you guys have a good one." The driver gave Foggy a tired smile before speeding off down the street.

Now there was the small matter of getting Becky up the front steps. These old buildings weren't exactly wheelchair accessible. "Okay, Becky," Foggy said cheerfully as his gaze shifted from her to Dakota, "I guess we can do this two ways. Either I carry you and Dakota gets the chair or we can both just pull. Which would you prefer?"

"Actually, couldn't we just get Matt to do it?" Becky certainly had confidence in Foggy's ability to carry someone as relatively light as herself, but she was convinced that Matt could do so without throwing his back out. With Foggy, you couldn't be sure.

"So are you saying you don't think _I_ could carry her?" Dakota wasn't going to let this one slide. "Just out of curiosity, how much do _you_ bench press, Nelson?"

"I don't know… I don't lift a lot of weights. But, you know, I'm a guy." Foggy started wishing he had just kept his mouth shut.

"So? What makes you so sure you're stronger than I am?" Dakota said, giving Foggy a shrewd look. Unlike Foggy, she worked out. A lot.

"Listen, guys. Don't I get a say in this? I'm sure you could both carry me. If you can't settle this, you're going to have to share. There's enough of me to go around, I promise. Just pull, okay? It's_freezing_ out here, in case you hadn't noticed." Becky looked at the two of them like a kindergarten teacher trying to break up a pillow fight.

Foggy and Dakota gave each other a nod and a smile, quietly deciding to bury the hatchet, as both grabbed a hold of Becky's chair and started pulling. Within a matter of seconds all three had made it all the way up to the front door. While Becky peeled the paper from the bouquet of flowers they had brought, all three noticed someone coming out of the house next door. He was about 5'9", 200 lbs and dressed in sweatpants and a grease-stained tank top. His dark brown hair was a little thin on top and stood out in all directions. He gave them a disdainful look as he dumped the bag he was carrying into the trash can and headed back up the steps. "Hey Luanne," he called through the open door to his house, "looks like the neighbors are having a gimp convention or something." Before anyone had a chance to say anything, he was back inside and had closed the door behind him.

"Oh…my…God." Dakota was almost hyperventilating. "What an _asshole_."

"So that's him, huh?" Foggy had already heard all about Mr Ramirez and the whole deodorant plot, but had no idea the guy was _that_ bad. That remark was just _vile_.

"Forget about him. People like that don't know any better." Becky just wished she could make the whole thing go away. She knew that Foggy and Dakota felt worse about what he had said because she had heard it too, but the truth of the matter was that a comment like that was so over the top that it wasn't nearly as bad as when supposedly well-meaning people said something stupid.

"Yeah, okay. What do you say we go in?" Foggy rang the door bell. He couldn't help but feel that the mood had changed somewhat, and hoped that they would all feel a lot better once they got inside.

There were sounds of approaching footsteps on the other side of the door, and within a couple of seconds, Matt opened. He was wearing dark gray dress pants and a white shirt.

"Hey, guys! Come on in!" Matt already knew every detail of the conversation that had just taken place outside, but figured that it was better to just not bring it up. It could wait until later, and he got the distinct feeling that everybody needed something else to talk about.

"Well, these are for the two of you," Becky said as she handed him the flowers, "from all of us."

"Thanks Becky, they smell great!" Matt gave both Becky and Dakota a kiss on the cheek and turned to give Foggy a big hug. "Did I ever tell you how happy I am that you're not dead?"

"Yes, you did. But let's just decide to not have any more fake deaths from now on," Foggy whispered in Matt's ear while giving him an extra pat on the back.

Matt nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan." He loved Foggy like a brother, and he knew that now more than ever. He still found it hard to think about the weeks he'd spent believing that his best friend was gone forever. "So, Foggy, could you help everyone with their coats? I'm going to go put these in water. Hey, Milla, they're here!"

"I know. I'll be right out!"

Matt headed for the kitchen and brushed his hand lightly against the door frame as he entered. It wasn't like he didn't _know_ it was there, it was just that touching things always made them feel more real somehow. "Hey, honey, do we have a vase anywhere?"

"There's one in the living room, I think. Are you making drinks for everyone? I get the feeling they're going to need it."

"Yeah? Why is that?" Matt leaned down and kissed her neck again.

"Well, _I_ definitely need one, and they've all been out in the cold."

The newly arrived guests all got their coats off as they watched Matt walk by, only to return seconds later with a vase in his hand. "Why don't you guys go sit down in the living room, and we'll be right out." He used the vase to make some sort of pointing gesture towards the room in question.

"Well," Foggy said, "it's over this way." He was the only one of them who had actually been there before. He liked what they had done with the place since the last time he saw it. There was relatively little stuff out, but it still felt cozy enough.

Dakota hadn't known Matt very long, and had only met Milla a few times, so she was a little curious to see what their place looked like. She wasn't going to admit to it out loud, but she did wonder whether blind people actually decorated their homes. As it turned out, the only things that stood out to her as she followed behind Foggy and Becky through the dining room into the living room was that the place was incredibly tidy, relatively open, and didn't have a lot of art on the walls. There were actually a few paintings, but not as many as you'd find in the average home. Some of the lights were on, but she got the feeling that it had everything to do with not making the place look completely abandoned. As they entered the living room, she heard Händel's _Messiah_ playing softly in the background.

When Foggy saw the Christmas tree in the corner, he just had to smile. It was anything but pretty. It was, in fact, a real ugly duckling of a tree, and one without any swan potential whatsoever. He knew that Matt, in his roundabout way of sort of knowing what things looked like, was most likely fully aware of the shortcomings of this particular specimen. He also knew that he must have had some reason for picking it over some of the others. The decorations cracked him up even more, if only because he found the idea of Matt actually making them like some preschooler in art class too amusing for words. And he was definitely sure that this was all Matt's idea. Instead of the typical lights, glass ornaments and tinsel, there were pieces of whole cinnamon, slices of dried oranges, and large chunks of a variety of dried spices that he knew he'd seen before but couldn't identify. As someone with an average nose, even he had to admit that it definitely smelled like Christmas.

"How do you like the tree, partner?" Matt smiled as he noticed how Foggy nearly jumped when he put his hand on his shoulder. He obviously hadn't noticed him coming. "You want some Scotch?" Matt turned to Foggy and held out a drink he'd already poured.

"Sure, thanks. Honestly, Matt, I _love_ it. It's great."

"Wow, you're not even lying."

"No, I'm not. I can see how this would be the greatest tree ever if you didn't actually have to look at it. It's not very attractive, but I love it."

"Well, I'm glad you think so. I was telling Milla that it might not be a smash hit with you guys."

"So how long did it take you to make the decorations?"

"About an hour. I've never been into the whole arts and crafts bit, but I decided that I wanted a great-smelling tree this year, and Milla obviously doesn't mind. It was actually kind of fun."

"You are easily the most contradictory person I will ever know."

"Yes, probably." Matt took a sip from his drink. He usually didn't touch the hard stuff, knowing from experience that it would mess with his head. On the other hand, he wasn't going anywhere later, and not only because it was Christmas Eve. There was definitely a storm coming.

"So what do you think your little superhero friends would have to say about this new hobby of yours?"

"Oh, I don't know. I know Danny likes to knit."

"What, Danny? As in _Iron Fist_?"

"Yeah, are you even surprised? Have you seen the guy's costume? He is very much in touch with his feminine side, if you know what I mean. Very secure in his sexuality, obviously."

"So Danny Rand is a knitter, huh?"

"Yeah, he even made me a scarf once, a couple of years ago."

"A scarf?"

"That's right. I've never worn it though. It makes my neck itch."

"It makes your _neck_ itch?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?"

"No, it's just… Man, suddenly my life seems so normal. And that's saying a lot considering I died and came back to life this year. Well, sort of."

"Well, normalcy is often overrated. But I have to tell you, I hope things stay relatively normal for a while. And as for that scarf, you know I can't wear anything that's not 100 cashmere. Lamb's wool just doesn't cut it."

"You are such a snob."

"Well, I have very sensitive skin."

"Now who's in touch with his feminine side?" Foggy smiled and took another sip of his drink. He was beginning to get that nice warm feeling that you could only get from drinking really good Scotch with your best friends on Christmas Eve.

"I never said that I wasn't, Foggy. I did tell you about the secret Santa thing though, right?" Matt turned his face away from the tree a little towards where Foggy was standing.

"What? No, I'm pretty sure you didn't." Foggy was suddenly worried. Even though they had all bought gifts for each other, he hoped he hadn't missed some special gift swapping deal he might have agreed to without really listening.

"No, it's just something we've been doing for a few years. You know, us guys in costume. That's how I got that scarf."

"You're kidding me, right?" Foggy couldn't believe this. He was suddenly imagining Luke Cage excitedly holding a wrapped box to his ear and shaking it while all the other superheroes sat around watching in anticipation. Or listening, in Matt's case.

"No, it was initially Luke's idea, I think. He managed to get the word out and everyone else thought it sounded like fun. We in the costumed community have a tendency to take things a little too seriously sometimes. Not that strange considering all the bad stuff that goes down out there."

"The 'costumed _community_'? What's next? Are you going to set up your own retirement home or something?" Foggy watched Matt closely and found him looking surprisingly serious.

"Oh, I doubt it. Despite what all this must sound like it's not like we get together for milk and cookies or anything. It's all a very clandestine operation. We just make sure to drop our gift off in a particular spot, preferably without being seen. If we happen to know where the person in question lives that works too. The point is to have a little fun with it. We never buy anything that costs over $20."

"So there's a purchase limit?" Foggy couldn't help but wonder who made the rules and whether they had to sign a contract in blood or if a regular pen was sufficient.

"Yeah. I know some of the guys are loaded, but … uhm, Spider-man has cash flow issues from time to time. Besides, it's just for fun."

"So who do you have?"

"This year, I am Santa to none other than the inimitable Dr. Stephen Strange."

"_Wow_… I don't even know what to say Matt. I'm actually a little surprised he's even part of this. He just seems a little, well, _out there_."

"You know, he's surprisingly down to Earth. I mean, all things considered."

"What do you even get someone like that?"

"I got him one of those books by that psychologist on TV. The one with the Southern accent and the whole bit about 'getting real' and 'telling it like it is'."

"Matt,_please_ tell me you're not talking about Dr. Phil."

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Are you nuts? That doesn't even make _sense_."

"I know. Just consider it payback for that Braille map of Manhattan he gave me three years ago." Matt waited for Foggy to say something, but only got the silence of stunned disbelief in return. "Hey, lets go join the others," Matt nodded towards the couch, "I think we're verging on rude here. Besides, Milla and I have some last minute stuff to take care of. After that, I think we're just about ready to eat."

* * *

"Wow, Milla! This looks great! You must have spent all day making this." Dakota was beyond impressed. She considered boiling eggs a real challenge, and most certainly couldn't do it with her eyes closed.

"Oh please. Matt made almost half of what's on the table, along with dessert, so I can't take all the credit." Though Milla had to admit to herself that it was heaven to finally be able to sit down and just relax for a few hours.

"Well, Matt, that is so very twenty-first century of you!" Becky looked around at all the food, and wondered if they had a small army waiting to take care of all the left-overs that would undoubtedly result from this feast. "It all looks absolutely delicious!"

"So Milla, could you tell us which of these dishes Matt made, so we know what to stay away from?" Foggy was feeling very pleased with himself until he felt a light, but mildly painful, blow from Matt's fist on his shoulder. "Ouch!"

"Unlike some other people around this table, who shall remain nameless, I've actually worked as a cook. Nowhere fancy, of course, but an interesting experience nonetheless." Matt went back to carefully dissecting the dead bird before him, hoping his efforts weren't found to be too lacking in general visual appeal. "I think I'll stick to lawyering though."

"And honey, if that doesn't work out you could always become a massage therapist or a piano tuner." Milla laughed a little as she gently ran her hand across Matt's lower back as he was slaving away next to her.

"Well, I do have something of a magic touch, and my hearing is _very_ acute, so that might not be such a bad idea." Matt smiled and shook his head at the thought, but noticed that no one else seemed to get the joke. "Milla, I don't think they got it."

"Oh, it's just that those two are like _the_ most stereotypical blind jobs on the planet. The only thing more cliché is the whole musician thing. Well, Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder and all that. Not that they're not great musicians, of course."

"Of course," Foggy added, smiling at the thought of Matt giving back rubs to tourists on cruise ships. "So should I pour the wine?"

"Oh, absolutely. Please, go ahead, I totally forgot." Matt decided that he was just about done carving away at the turkey and sat down next to Milla. "Okay everyone, dig in!"

For a couple of minutes, no one had said much of anything as their conversation had been replaced by the clatter of silverware on china and the sounds of food-induced pleasure made by everyone around the table. The food had come out perfectly, and Matt knew that he wasn't the only one who enjoyed it. People's heart rhythm always changed when they experienced pleasure, and in the relative quiet of the room, his own heart beat and those of everyone around him stood out like drums. He didn't want to spoil anyone's apetite, but felt that the time had come to say something about the conversation he had overheard earlier. "Well guys, I hate to bring this up, but I just wanted to apologize on behalf of my neighbor. I heard what he said earlier and that was unusually low, even for him."

"Please," Becky said, "why should you apologize? It's not _your_ fault."

"Yeah, I know, but I still feel bad about it."

"Oh, what did he say _this_ time?" Milla was the only one who hadn't heard.

"I'll tell you later, I don't want to ruin anyone's apetite." Matt knew that Milla wasn't terribly bothered by Mr. Ramirez, but didn't feel like his comment was worth repeating. "But, if it makes you feel any better, you should know that he's an equal opportunity offender. I don't think there's any identifiable group of people he hasn't picked on so I can safely say that none of what passes his lips should be taken personally."

"But this reminds me," Dakota couldn't contain her curiosity any longer, "how _did_ things go with Miss Piggy? You refused to talk about it all day yesterday, but you _know_ you're going to have to tell us."

"Oh, yes," Matt smiled and paused, "that's a _very_ interesting question." He noticed how everyone had leaned forward, ever so slightly, and decided to make them sweat for a few seconds.

"Oh, come on, sweetie. Now you're just being mean." Milla had heard the story already and knew all about the chain of events that had been set in motion as a result. "Tell them."

"Okay, well first of all, as you all know, I decided to go with Miss Piggy, because that would just send all the right kinds of signals. Besides, I kind of like her. And may I also take this opportunity to thank you, Dakota, for helping to set all of this up."

"You're very welcome, but now you're just stalling. Come on, spill!" Dakota took another sip of her wine and kept her eyes fixed on Matt.

"Well, the delivery was scheduled for the day before yesterday, in the afternoon. We had already gotten the package over to the delivery people so everything was set to go. I decided to make an event of it so I managed to score some front row seats on the bench across the street. I knew it could be a while, they can't give you an exact time, so I went to the coffee shop just up the street and got one of those egg nog lattes, and an insanely huge cookie. And excuse me Dakota for stalling again, but I just have to say that if you guys haven't been there, you should try it out. The place is independentely owned, and everything they sell is top-notch."

"It really is," Milla added, "and the owners are _so_ nice. It's one of those places where they always remember your favorite drink order. I'm sorry, go on Matt."

"Right, so I get my stuff and go sit on the bench, thought I'd do some reading while I waited. But, I honestly couldn't really concentate on anything, I was just too excited. Anyway, after a couple of minutes this little old lady comes along and sits down next to me, on my right. Of course, I just _know_ she is going to start talking to me. Tell me all about her cats and her sister in Philadelphia or something."

"Oh, come on Matt, some old people just need someone to talk to," Becky said, feeling just a tad bit sorry for this woman.

"Well, the thing is, at first she doesn't say anything, she just kind of looks at me for the longest time. I mean, I can just feel her little purple-haired head moving up and down. Oh, and I'm pretty sure it's purple, it definitely had that purple rinse smell to it. So after about a minute or two of deep analysis, she decides to open with a real shocker. 'You're _blind_,' she says to me." Matt did his best to try to imitate her voice, but wasn't entirely happy with the outcome. "Of course, I'm just blown away by her phenomenal observational skills. At this point I'm thinking of either going with the classic 'Oh my God, you're kidding me!' or 'Thank you for pointing that out,' or something like that. But, heck, I'm a nice guy right?"

"Right," Becky and Foggy answered in unison.

"So I just say 'Yes, m'am,' and leave it at that. But then comes the best part, because then she says 'But you're so _handsome_.' I mean, what do you even _say_ to that? I'm not even sure that actually counts as a compliment." Matt started cracking up.

"Geez, Matt, I'm suddenly beginning to realize why you decided to mention this woman at all. Like _you_ need an ego boost." Foggy couldn't believe it.

"No, really Foggy, you're going to want to hear this, because then she asks me what I do. So I tell her I'm a lawyer, at which point she tells me that her grandson is a lawyer. And then she asks me if I know him. So take a guess, Foggy. Guess who this woman's grandson is."

"You mean it's someone we know? God, I don't know, it could be anyone. I have _no_ clue."

"Harlan Kaczynski." Matt took a sip of his wine as he listened to Foggy's entire physiology respond to this little piece of information.

"What, from _law school_!? The guy with the all the freckles?"

"I don't know. All I remember is that he was tall, skinny, talked like a girl and had an insane addiction to those nasty salt and vinegar potato chips. I never got why some people like them, but that's just me."

"Yeah, we're definitely thinking of the same guy… So what ever happened to him?" Foggy tried to remember anything about the guy, aside from the fact that he had a lot of freckles – actually, make that more like one single freckle covering his whole body – and looked like someone who might be easily spooked.

"Well, of course she tells me _all_ about him. Turns out he's in real estate law, married to some former model and the proud father of five-year-old twin girls. What were their names again? Tiffany and something else… Anyway, it doesn't matter. He's got some really snazzy Upper West Side apartment. Very successful, apparently." Matt took another sip of wine. It was pretty good stuff. Hand-picked by him and his super-sensitive palate.

"I'll be damned. Former model, huh?" Foggy couldn't get over how that unfortunate-looking scrawny guy had managed to get his hands on loads of money _and_ a beautiful woman. "The sad part is that I always thought I was better-looking than him."

"Oh come on, Foggy," Becky cooed. "You're an _awesome_ guy. Successful, talented, all-around great human being. And you are not bad-looking, either."

"And, oh," Dakota added, "I'm sure you can bench press _at least_ one-seventy-five. I didn't mean to imply that you're weak. You know, when we talked earlier." She was suddenly feeling a little bad about the whole thing.

"People, please… No pity, okay. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but not only is it not helping, it's not necessary. I'm totally fine with this. Geez, I'm not _that_ fragile. I'm glad things are going well for him. He was a nice guy, as far as I recall. Smart too."

"Well, he obviously doesn't get his brains from his grandmother, that's for sure." Matt shook his head a little at the memory of the painfully slow twenty minutes he'd spent with this woman and her aura of moth balls, liniment, denture adhesive, and heavy perfume. Of course, there were some humorous moments as well, but he decided not to mention the part where she'd asked him if he knew sign language, and almost made him choke on his coffee in the process. "Anyway, after a while, this van pulls up across the street, and I'm thinking that this might be it. It takes all my will-power to shut this old woman's annoying voice out of my head – and by now she really _has_ started talking about her cats – and just focus on what's happening. So I hear the back doors of the van open and out comes this large figure that I just know has to be Miss Piggy, I mean the head was four times the size of a normal person's head and I notice that people stop to look. There is also this really promising sound, as she – although I later figure out the person inside is a he – starts moving up the street. It's tap dancing shoes. I mean, I thought these people were supposed to sing, but the tap dancing thing is a nice touch!"

"Well," Dakota added, "it _is_ the most popular costumed delivery service in the city for a reason." She suddenly felt something close to genuine pride of being distantly related to the man who had dedicated so much of his time to bringing to life the whimsical and absurd.

"So Miss Piggy starts skipping up the sidewalk, that huge head just kind of bobbing up and down. Of course, at this point Kaczynski's grandmother has finally stopped talking about how much work it is to empty the cats' litter box, and says 'Now _there's_ something you don't see every day.' I don't let her in on the fact that I know what she's talking about, so I say 'How do you mean?' Then she says, 'Well, I don't see too well either, young man, but I'm pretty sure there's a pig dressed in a bikini and tap dancing shoes on the other side of the street.' I then realize that there _is_ one tiny detail she might be able to provide me with, so I ask 'Oh, is the bottom a g-string or full coverage?' Then she doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds, and I can tell she's blushing. I'm half-wondering if she's going to start hitting me with her purse and accuse me of having a dirty imagination when she says 'Oh, I don't know what it's called, but it's the kind with the whole derrière showing.'"

"Wow… Sounds like you and 'purple hair' had a real moment there, pal." Foggy still couldn't get over the fact that Matt had actually decided to go through with the whole thing.

"Yeah, well little Miss Piggy skips up the steps and rings the doorbell. Someone opens and I know right away it's the wife and not him. She must really be some kind of cool though, because she doesn't even flinch, just calls for him saying 'Someone's here to see you.' Don't ask me how she could be so sure Miss Piggy wasn't there to see _her_, but before you know it, he comes out. Now Piggy turns on a little boom box and starts tapping away to a show tune medley. This goes on for about forty-five seconds, and I have to admit that I would have_killed_ to see the look on his face, but you can't have it all, right? So, after this is over Piggy hands over the present. He then hands it to his wife who has come back out. Then he calmly rips Piggy's head off."

"No _way_!" Matt's colleagues couldn't believe their ears.

"_Yes_. I couldn't believe it either. I don't think he actually ripped the suit though, it sounded more like velcro. He then throws the head to the ground and starts going after the guy in the suit who immediately starts running. I'm half-ready to intervene, but something tells me it's not going to turn violent so I decide to wait to see what happens next. Mr. Ramirez starts yelling something like 'Who sent you, you little weasel?' They guy in the suit keeps running, going 'It's just a _job_, you asshole. What do you want from _me_?' Then it's like he's suddenly overcome by some sense of responsibility, because he just stops running, and turns to walk back up the street. Mr. Ramirez, who is obviously not in great shape, stops and walks after him, yelling 'Where do you think you're going, you pig?" Costume guy goes 'I need my head back, or I'm not getting paid for this. And, just so you know, unlike you I'm only a pig on weekends." Then he picks up his head, gets back in the van and takes off."

"So that's it?" Dakota didn't really know what she had expected exactly, but it wasn't _that_.

"So Matt," Becky said, "what happened after that?"

"Well, this is kind of funny, because yesterday afternoon he shows up here. It was right after I got back from work."

"So, he figured it out, huh?" Foggy figured that Matt's decision to set up shop across the street may not have been very wise.

"I don't know, but he was clearly very suspicious. Anyway, even though I really wouldn't have needed heightened senses to know that it's him when I open the door, his smell is _that_ strong, I still decide to play it cool and not let on that I know. So I just say 'Yes?' and he just stands there, which, quite frankly, is just plain rude. So I go 'Who is it?' and he says 'I'm _on_ to you Murdock,' sounding absolutely infuriated. Then I just say, 'Oh, Mr. Ramirez, how nice of you to stop by,' and I put on that smug look I've been told I'm so good at."

"_That's_ the understatement of the year," Foggy said.

"Well, thank you, Foggy. Now, Mr. Ramirez says 'I don't know how I know, but I _know_ you are somehow responsible for this…this pig showing up on my door step.' So, I tell him the following, 'Not only do I have no idea what you're talking about, but you also need to remember that I'm blind, which according to _you_, would make me pretty much incapable of even wiping my own ass. But it's flattering to know that you suddenly think I can pull off some intricate scheme.' Then I'm just about ready to close the door in his face. Before I get a chance to he gives me this kid-throwing-a-temper-tantrum attitude, I swear he's two seconds away from jumping up and down in sheer frustration, and says 'Oh,_you_ people, and your stupid _tax_ deductions!' Of course, I start laughing, which – let me tell you – is not making this guy _any_ happier. I couldn't help it, it was just one of the most ridiculous comments I've ever heard. That was apparently all the ammo he had, because then he just turns around and storms off."

"Although, to be fair, when someone starts a sentence with 'you people,' you always know it's going to be good," Becky said, shaking her head. That guy was such a _loser_.

"I just feel that if you're going to insult someone, you should put some thought into it. But apparently, it annoys him that I get to deduct an extra one thousand dollars a year on my taxes. I'm telling you, I'm a little disappointed. I was expecting that he'd _at least_ call me a cripple or something."

"So," Becky said, "I guess this means that you still haven't taken care of the whole stink problem. It doesn't sound like he's going to use that deodorant. Especially when he's suspecting you're behind it."

"Well, that's where you're wrong. You see, it turns out that there really _is_ such a thing as a Christmas miracle. Because later that night, before I went out, I heard him talking to his wife. While he was busy chasing the partially decapitated Miss Piggy down the street, his wife had taken the present into the house and opened it. It seems it gave her the courage she needed to talk to him about it. She more or less _begged_ him to use it. And after he took the trash out this morning, I noticed that the smell wasn't as bad as usual. Sure, he's still no rose garden, but it's a little better than before."

"Well, I guess all is well that ends well, huh?" Dakota had oftened noted how things had a way of turning out for the best, even when you didn't expect them to.

"Well, the guy is apparently still a complete jerk," Foggy said.

"If a visit from Miss Piggy could cure every human flaw, you and I would both be out of a job, Foggy. But, at least now he's easier to ignore." Matt briefly removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, definitely feeling some of that post-turkey sleepiness setting in.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Foggy paused for a moment and let out a deep sigh before speaking the words that were on everybody's minds "Well, the food was superb. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we just might consider coming here again."

"Oooh, I hate to tell you this, but there's more. You haven't lived 'til you've tried Matt's tiramisu." Milla felt for Matt's arm and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Do you want to go get it?"

"Absolutely. Okay, coffee anyone?"

* * *

The wind had picked up quite a bit in the last hour and the snow was everywhere. As Foggy looked out the window, he was having trouble even seeing the buildings on the other side of the street. They weren't going to be able to get home tonight. He didn't particularly mind, though; had no real desire to be anywhere else right then. He was having Christmas dinner with his parents the next day, but didn't need to be there until the afternoon, so there was really no rush. But he had to admit that he was almost looking forward to listening to his sister Candace talk about her latest trip to India or some really weird party she'd been to in Greenwich Village. He sometimes couldn't believe they were from the same planet, let alone physically related.

Foggy was half listening to the sounds of laughter coming from the living room as Becky, Milla and Dakota were chatting up a storm about some thing or another – he hadn't really paid much attention – when he noticed Matt's reflection in the window and heard him come up behind him.

"You guys are going to have to stay here tonight. You can't go outside when it's like this."

"Yeah, the snow is everywhere. I can't even see across the street."

"I know. The wind sounds different when there's snow in it."

"Matt, sometimes I swear you're making that stuff up."

"What? About the snow?"

"Yeah."

"You're just going to have to take my word for it. I don't know how I can tell, I just can. But, then again, when it's like this it's a whole lot easier to just hear it against the windows. Like rain, but a little softer."

"Well, I don't hear it." Foggy did sometimes wonder what it was like being inside Matt's head, but he usually pushed those thoughts aside. It was kind of like trying to think about the infinity of space, and the whole thing was just too mind-boggling.

"You don't hear the snow against the windows?" Matt was surprised. Sometimes it was hard to remember which sounds he had always been able to hear and which sounds came after the accident, but he was pretty sure that any person should be able to hear snow flakes being hurled against a window at forty miles per hour. He could, of course, _choose_ not to hear it. If he hadn't learned how to block most of the stuff out, he would have gone completely insane years ago.

"No, I don't _think_ so. To be honest, I've never tried listening for it." _Could_ he hear it? Maybe…

"Well, there's your problem right there. You're too busy looking at things. It limits your perceptions. Seriously, try to listen for it. Shut everything else out and concentrate."

"Are you going all philosophical on me now? 'Matt Murdock – friend, law partner, jedi master'." Foggy let out a snort.

"Sure, I'll be your personal Yoda if you want me to."

"That Yoda… That is one clever unicorn."

"You _do_ realize that I know he's not a unicorn, right?" Matt tried to hold back a smile and failed miserably.

"Yeah, I'm just teasing. You don't mind do you?" Foggy knew he didn't.

"_God_, no. Don't ever stop." It was one of the things Matt loved about Foggy. Even back when they first met, years before his best friend knew anything about all the extra _stuff_ that filled the darkness around him and what he could do with it, there was never any pity. Foggy wasn't afraid to joke about anything, and he never treated Matt like he was different from anyone else. "Go ahead and poke fun at me all you want, Foggy, I can take it. And I want you to know that I appreciate that you were never afraid to."

"You're very welcome. I promise to keep the jokes coming." Foggy looked over towards the living room. "Maybe we should go join the ladies. What do you say?"

* * *

"Hey, guys!" Dakota was in a great mood, and the wine she'd had didn't hurt. "So Matt, Milla was just telling us that you play the piano, and, of course, we're just _dying_ to hear you play something."

"Well, Dakota, I don't know… Didn't we decide earlier that blind guys playing the piano was too much of a cliché?" Teasing Dakota was _so_ much fun.

"Hey," Becky said, "that was Milla. _We_ never said it was a cliché. Come on, play something!"

"All right," Matt walked over to the piano and sat down, "what do you want to hear?" He felt for the middle C key while thinking of something he might be able to play despite being seriously out of practice. He hadn't played anything for weeks.

"Well, it's Christmas, so how about _Night Divine_?" It was one of Milla's favorites and one she knew Matt could play.

"Okay,_Night Divine_ it is." Matt closed his eyes, which he always did despite the fact that it didn't matter one way or another, found the right keys and turned the rest over to instinct and memory.

Foggy was completely blown away, and from the looks of it, so were the others. He'd heard Matt play before, but never like this. It wasn't concert pianist perfection, from a technical standpoint, but the emotional element was flawless. When he was done, everyone was quiet for several seconds until Becky thought to give him an applause, and the rest quickly joined in. Was Matt actually blushing? Yes, Foggy was sure of it.

"Thanks. Guys, that's enough. Come on, you're embarrasing me." Matt smiled and felt his face heat up. He was glad they enjoyed it though. He had actually quite enjoyed it himself. It was nice using his hands for something other than handing out punches. Though to be fair, he used his hands for a lot of things. Much more than a sighted person would. Still, playing the piano just then, his hands felt a little cleaner, like there was a little less blood on them.

"Okay," Milla said, deciding that a change in tone was in order, "do you guys want to do presents now or should we wait until the morning? I'm assuming you're spending the night, with the storm and everything."

"We're so sorry to put you guys out, Milla," Becky said, "but I'm not even sure we'd be able to make it out the door in this weather."

"Oh don't worry about it, you're more than welcome to stay. One of you may have to sleep on the couch though, I hope that's okay." The place had two guestrooms with beds already made so it really wasn't much of an inconvenience.

"I'll take the couch, you ladies get the luxury suites." Foggy didn't mind. He could have slept on the floor if he had to. "And, not to sound like a little kid, but I say we open the presents now." He was curious to see what Matt would think of his special secret project. The idea had come to him when he and Matt were looking at the different costumes with Dakota in their office three weeks ago.

"So Foggy, can't wait to see what you got, huh? You are so much in touch with your inner child it's scary." Matt had made it over to the couch and took a seat next to Milla. He put his arm around her and felt her head on his chest. God, why did she have to put her hair right under his nose? The smell of it hit him like a punch to the stomach. A very pleasant punch, but overwhelming nonetheless.

"No, I'm just curious to see what you think of… Well, there's a thing I've been working on. No, I don't want to give it away. You'll see when you open it."

"Oh, I_seriously_ doubt that." Teasing Foggy was even more fun than teasing Dakota.

"You know what I mean. I meant that _metaphorically_. You are familiar with the concept of the metaphor, right?"

"Yeah, only vaguely. But I have to say that I'm intrigued, Foggy. Secret project, huh?"

"Well, yeah. Okay, maybe now you're thinking that it's something really spectacular. It's not. It was just something I thought… Well, it's just for fun." Foggy started wishing he hadn't said anything. He wasn't even sure Matt would like it.

"Okay, I think the ladies need more wine. There's another bottle right behind you, Foggy." Matt sat up a little straighter and reached for the first present under the tree. "Okay, now let's see who gets to go first."

* * *

After half of the gifts had been opened, one thing was clear: Dakota was obviously enjoying being the only one in the office who wasn't a lawyer. She had given Becky a copy of _Lowering the Bar: Lawyer Jokes and Legal Culture_, while Foggy received _The__New Yorker Book of Lawyer Cartoons_. Matt was half-expecting something similar when it was finally his turn. The book cover had a finish that made it difficult to read, but he quickly found the title on one of the first pages.

"Nice Dakota. That's _really_ nice. Just so you know, next time we're buying doughnuts, you're not getting any."

"Well, I tried to find an audio version, but they didn't have any. I hope the regular print version is okay."

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm, _ahem_, looking forward to reading this." He decided not to mention that reading regular print could get pretty exhausting beyond the first ten or fifteen pages. But he probably wouldn't have read it all in one sitting anyway.

"Matt, what is it? What was the name of it?" Milla knew it was a book, and that it was probably another one of the lawyer joke variety.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey. Our lovely Dakota here has seen it fit to give me a book called _The Lawyer Who Blew Up His Desk: And Other Tales of Legal Madness_ by someone named Joseph Matthews. Don't ask me what she's trying to say with this, but I think we'll have to start plotting some form of revenge."

"Oooh, I'm_so_ scared." Working regularly at a law firm had not diminshed Dakota's love of lawyer jokes. "But you've heard the saying right? The one about that the two problems with lawyer jokes are that lawyers don't find them funny and no one else thinks they're jokes."

"And I was really starting to like you, Dakota. Turns out you're just really mean," Becky said, laughing. "Lawyers are just so misunderstood in today's society and these kinds of attitudes are not helping."

"Hey, who said I was trying to help?" Dakota reached for the bowl of peanuts on the table and popped one in her mouth.

"Okay, what do we have here?" Matt picked up a wrapped box from under the tree and read the label. "Oh this is embarrasing, it for me again. From Foggy… Really, you shouldn't have," he said jokingly. Foggy was noticeably nervous and Matt couldn't help but wonder what was in that box to cause this kind of reaction.

Foggy watched quietly as Matt opened the box in his lap and took out the first of four DVD cases with homemade Braille labels on them. Foggy had made them using the Braille printer in the office while Matt was down at central lock-up interviewing a client. He could, of course, have used the regular printer, but thought it might be a nice touch. Besides, this way Milla could read it too.

At first, Matt was completely puzzled. DVDs? What was up with _that_? As he read the cover, he was overcome with two somewhat conflicting emotions. The first one threatened to send him into fits of laughter. In fact, he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to keep from cracking up. The second emotion was something much deeper. When thinking about how much time it would have taken Foggy to put something like this together, he couldn't help but feel moved.

"Matt what_are_ those?" Becky asked.

"I… I don't know what to say. It's, uhm, let me read it to you," Matt smiled as he felt the _very_ Grade 1 Braille which covered both the front and back of the DVD case. He wasn't sure if Foggy knew that no one except beginners actually used the form where every single letter was spelled out, even though he was sure he must have mentioned it to him at some point. "It says 'Gone with the Wind – A Space Opera. From the Reimagining the Classics series, by Franklin Nelson. Note: The commentator track may deviate from other versions of this work.' Holy… I can't believe this Foggy! What did you _do_?" At this point Matt was over being moved. This was _hilarious_ stuff.

"Well, my sister actually pointed me to this guy who's really good at, you know, technical stuff, and he kind of helped me add another layer of audio to some old movies. So I was thinking that I would just, well, put my own twist to them. Kind of like I did in college."

"So now you're suddenly confessing to it? Nice way to come clean!" Matt took off his glasses and put them on the table before resting his face in his hands as he shook his head, laughing. He sat up again and held out his hand. "Dakota, would you pass me a napkin, I'm crying here. Man, this is some funny stuff…" Still smiling, he wiped the tears of laughter from his face, only half-realizing that Dakota had probably never actually seen his eyes before.

"So you like it then?" Foggy was beyond relieved. He was pretty sure that Matt was going to appreciate the joke, but he wasn't absolutely certain.

"Yes,_thank you_. I'm really looking forward to watching this, although I'd love it if you'd watch it with me. I'm thinking it might be fun to get the commentary of the commentary."

"Well, I think that could be arranged." Foggy smiled.

"So," Dakota said, "what are the other three?"

"Oh, right." Matt had taken the other three movies out of the box, but hadn't read what was on them. "Let's see, we have _1984 – The Island Experience_,_Star Wars – Afternoon at the Laser Dome_, and _Psycho – The Really Psycho Version_. Wow, Foggy. You must have spent at least fifteen hours on all this. I'm not sure whether that makes you certifiably insane or just a really good friend."

"Well, take your pick, buddy. Maybe I'm both."

* * *

Matt and Milla didn't make it upstairs until one in the morning. As Matt entered their bedroom, he noticed that something was different. Something light and small pounding against the window and an ever so faint hint of a familiar scent. When he opened the window, he felt a strong gust of wind in his face making his eyes water for the second time that evening. The smell was stronger outside, and he sensed the movement of a small object suspended from the roof. It was a pouch of some sort, made of what he immediately recognized as spider web. He reached for it and pulled it towards him. Beneath the sticky layer of organic material was a small figure of some sort. _A doll?_ He peeled most of webbing off and inspected it closesly. It was only a little over a couple of inches long and less than an inch wide. The tiny shape had long dangling arms and legs, and as he ran his thumb over its head he noticed two small bumps. _Eyes?_ The mouth was half-open and almost beak-like and seemed to have a small tongue stiched to the lower half. _Was it…?_ The image forming in his mind suddenly matched that of something he'd seen half a lifetime ago. He felt it again, and he was sure this time. _That little bastard…_ Matt smiled.

* * *

Foggy couldn't sleep. It was after one o'clock, and he'd had just a tad too much to drink, but he still couldn't sleep. Suddenly, all the memories of the past year washed over him. Everything about that evening had been perfect, but with everything that had happened, it was almost too perfect. How long would it last? How long until the next disaster hit. Then again, maybe it wouldn't. Maybe this was all a sign of better things to come.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" Matt had heard that Foggy was still up.

"You're up too?"

"I figured you might want some company."

"Not much gets past you, does it?"

"I couldn't tell you what color shirt you're wearing, but other than that, no." Matt smiled and put his new gift on the kitchen counter in front of him.

"Kermit?"

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, just some guy I know."

"Your secret Santa?"

"Yeah. Home delivery. Spider-man."

"It's got stuff on it."

"Yeah, I know. It's pretty nasty when you think about it. Thank God my powers are of the non-offensive kind that don't stick to furniture. Can you believe he's married?"

"Really? Oh, let me guess. Probably a model, huh?"

"No, actress actually."

"Same thing."

"Hey, Foggy?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas."

"You too, Matt. You too."


End file.
